


Hey Zombies

by ekogrande



Category: Hey Arnold
Genre: 28 days later - Freeform, Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Dark, Gen, Horror, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Supernatural Elements, Thriller, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 15:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10970217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekogrande/pseuds/ekogrande
Summary: A mysterious infection starts turning everyone it takes over into psychopathic flesh eaters. First it takes Hillwood, then the east coast...and Arnold's stuck in ground zero.Arnold must take on this new struggle of getting everything taken away from him once more as he battles zombies, vicious bandits, a scheming scientist, and an old evil once thought destroyed...Time may not be on Arnold's side, but his friends and family are as they work together to survive in the apocalypse.Inspired by existing works such as The Walking Dead and 28 Days Later. Hey Zombies is an adventure horror featuring iconic characters from the cartoon series melding with original ones as they take on this mysterious apocalypse.The world just got a whole lot darker...





	1. It All Starts Here

**Author's Note:**

> The unofficial sequel to Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie
> 
> I was inspired to write Hey Zombies when Hey Arnold came back into my life during a time that I needed something like it the most. And back then, TJM was still just an idea. 
> 
> I have vowed to myself to keep going with HZ because over time, it started becoming its own universe. And now that The Jungle Movie has been released and the Hey Arnold canon reestablished, I've decided to continue this story based on the lore of the Jungle Movie, 15+ years in the future...
> 
> If you enjoy zombies, and you love Hey Arnold, this is your fic. I hope you all enjoy Hey Zombies.

Journal Entry #22; August 2nd 2002  
We won. The last of our problems were over and I was finally complete. Helga was in my arms the whole trip and my parents were coming home with me. Life was finally beginning anew. For a while, I started to miss Helga calling me “Football Head.” All the mind games we played with each other and all the times we looked at and hated one another. It took a summer in San Lorenzo for me to realize where my heart truly belonged. After the madness with La Sombra was over, we flew back in Eduardo's plane. I'll never forget when my parents swore to me, on the plane, that they'd never leave my side again. I knew they were telling the truth. Grandma and Grandpa welcomed their son and daughter-in-law with open arms. Tears were shed. Grandma, of course, just had to be wearing her turkey outfit, seeing as it was just a couple weeks after the Fourth of July. My parents set up an office in Mr. Smith's old room, shortly before they got an interesting offer, from one Future Tech Industries. That's right, Alphonse Scheck's real estate company was on the brink of obtaining all new assets and technology science was just the tip of the iceberg. Before long, my parents became head of the branch of medicine at FTi, thanks to a man named Victor Richtofen, who was impressed with their research in the jungle, with the Green Eyed People and the sleeping disease. Dad branched into military science, and Mom returned to school to get her PhD. I see where I am now. Everything that happened. Everything that was going to happen; how things are back to normal, how my parents are by my side again. I can now say; I'm home...  
.  
.  
.  
Hey Zombies

_It All Starts Here_

The flashlight clicked on. Even with its brightness, Eugene couldn't see a thing; nothing of value anyway. Wind howled against the small basement window as Eugene panned his flashlight from right to left. The shelves were practically empty. It was not a good sign for the oncoming weeks, especially with four people needing sustenance. Eugene closed the door and crept his way back up the stairs and onto the main floor of Sunset Arms. All around him, the walls were cracked. The light green paint was starting to wear out. Harold and Stinky just glanced in his direction as he re-entered the living room.

"Well Eugene? Where we at on supplies?" Stinky asked,

"Sorry guys, we're just about out of food. There's maybe two gallons of water left and three cans of that pineapple cocktail you all hate. At this pace, we're going to be out of supplies in four days."

"What about that meat?! The beef we cooked outside two days ago?!" Harold bantered.

"Harold, it wasn't going to stay good for long without refrigeration. I know Arnold said we should save it, but he was just wanting to give us hope. I'm sure of it."

"Eugene, can you just keep your trap shut and never say 'sure' again?" Stinky suggested, "Your optimism's startin’ to get on my nerves."

Eugene's forehead scrunched downward and his eyebrows raised pitifully, "Aw come on guys. It's not that bad. We've been here for two weeks. I mean, Harold, remember when we were kids-"

"I swear Eugene, if you mention us being in that fucking tree… that was like ten years ago." Harold muttered, daggers in his voice. His fist tightened with knuckles crackling. Eugene refrained from saying anything else. Albeit, a pounding from Harold sounded ten times better than getting torn apart.

"Hate to agree, Eugene, but I'm with Harold. We were just kids after all." Said Stinky.

"Yea, with flesh eating sprinter freaks out to get us!" Harold added.

"Besides, have you ever thought to yourself, maybe it's time to check out? Kick the bucket?"

"Be at shalom with my brothers." Harold said.

"Harold, would you mind keeping your religious superstitions to yourself?" Stinky retorted.

"It got me through my bar mitzvah, it can keep me going in a zombie apocalypse!" Harold angrily replied.

Eugene interrupted, "Now fellas, how could you be so quick to give up? We've gone this long, why shouldn't we go for another day longer? Any day now, the soldie-"

"That's it! You're fucking dead you little ginger!" Harold slammed out of his chair, ready to slam Eugene into the ground. Every step shook the floorboards. Stinky stepped back out of instinctive fear, no desire to get involved.

"Everybody be QUIET!" yelled a voice from the kitchen.

Arnold put his pen down and took a quick glance over what he had written:

Journal entry #146, July 17, 2012. I thought we had won, the last of our problems were over and we'd go home happy with smiles on our faces. I thought I was finally home. My parents swore we'd never come apart again. Helga swore we'd always be at each others' side. And here we are, trapped in my once true home, now a destroyed wreck. Ten years is not enough time to catch up with my life, and I sure as hell wasn't ready for this. My friends and neighbors could be dead and waltzing around right outside my door, I may never see Helga, or my parents, or I could be forced to kill them if I saw them one last time. I've decided now was not the time to give up hope. I have a plan, and Eugene, Harold, and Stinky are going to listen. I know it'll work.

Ten minutes later, Arnold had Harold, Eugene, and Stinky sitting in silence across from each other, pondering what Arnold had just told them.

"I dunno Arnold. You really think that'll work?"

"It has to, they're drawn to any sort of motion. It's been five-something days since we've seen a runner on the street. They're getting hungry which means they're getting slow." Arnold responded.

"But it's a fight or flight plan Arnold, if we get caught in the wind, we're done for." Said Eugene.

"That's a chance we'll have to take." Arnold said. Everybody sat in silence, "Look, I've been planning this since the beginning. Now, it should be easier. I'm sorry I haven't brought it up until now but I didn't want to give you guys false hope. There's no question about it now, looking at our situation. We're dying. And if we don't act, we're going to die here, in my destroyed home."

"Arnold. It's hard to understand, but this ain't your home no more. We're all here to survive, not makin’ irrational decisions." Stinky said.

"When your family's been taken away from you, irrational is the only way you can think." Arnold responded.

"But we could die if we mess up, and I don't wanna die!" Harold said, once more showing his lack of growth to the group.

"You're not gonna die Harold. Before this madness, I've seen you work out. You've run up and down 33rd street six times in one hour and look how slim you've gotten! How can you not outrun flesh eating zombies?" Arnold rebutted.

"Well for one thing Arnold, I didn't have flesh eating zombies out to get me when I was burning my fat!" Harold responded.

"I for one think it's a great plan!" Eugene chimed in.

"Shut up Eugeeeeene." Harold murmured.

"Look Harold, it won't be as challenging as you think it is. If Stinky's truck is still there, he can hotwire it for us while you keep the ones on the street busy. When you hear us get the truck started, get to Gerald Field lot and we'll pick you up. I promise you, swear by my life that you will be safe." Said Arnold, everybody sat in silence, pondering,

"Look, this is our street, and we know how our street works. If we can't execute this plan, then this wasn't our home to begin with. But we've been here for twenty years, as long as we've been alive. After all this time, I finally had a home, with people I love. It wasn't even like this when Scheck tried to destroy our neighborhood, what's so different about dealing with an impending epidemic? We fought back then, and we won. This time around, we need to fight twice as hard. Now what do you guys say?"

Silence.

"I'd say you're as crazy as you were ten years ago Arnold." Harold said blandly. "But like Gerald always said, you're a bold kid." Harold said again with a smile.

Arnold started to glow again, and things started to look up, "Come on," he said, "Let's go find the rest of our family."

Eugene went back down to the basement and grabbed the cans and water jugs. As he brought them upstairs, he walked past Stinky, who was rummaging through the closet till he found his shotgun and the shells in a separate red box, along with an MP5 submachine gun and ten rounds in the magazine.

Harold was in the living room, tying his shoelaces on his Reeboks, his heart pumping. Arnold came into the room, "Doing ok, Harold?"

"Yeah I'm ok. Just nervous, not ready to die, you know?" Harold said.

"I know Harold. But understand that when we find our friends out there, you'll be a hero for helping us get the hell out of here." Arnold said. Harold smiled and looked back down at his shoes. "We're heading out in fifteen." Arnold said, raising his voice a little, patting Harold on the shoulder a few times.

When the time came, it was Arnold, Eugene, Stinky, and Harold at the door. Stinky had the shotgun pumped and ready to go. Eugene, the duffle bag of supplies in his right hand, and Arnold at the door handle, holding the last piece of the barrier he had torn down that was previously put up.

"Ok Harold, ready? Make no mistake. This is fight or flight. Live or die." Arnold said.

"I know... Let's do this." Harold said.

"Ok." Arnold breathed out a sigh of tension, "One." The others started to shuffle their feet. "Two." Harold's lip quivered. He thought of Rhonda for a second, her black hair, before the thought was gone and it was once again live or die.

"Three! Go!"


	2. Finding Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arnold and his group find trouble almost immediately after leaving the boarding house. Two familiar faces make their way through the ruined neighborhood.

**Hey Zombies**

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.

.

_Finding Friends_

Six buckets lined the truck bed, filled with a grotesque concoction of bleach, chlorine, toothpaste and other household fluids, Gerald's personal recipe. He and Charlie drove through the ruins of Hillwood, scanning for survivors. The infected seemed to roam mindlessly through the streets, unaware there was a fresh meal sitting inside four wheels less than ten feet away from them.

The night was dark and smelled of death. Even with the grotesque concoction that Gerald invented to disguise their scent; they were still afraid of what they might find in the depths of their old home.

For the first time in a long time, Charlie could really have gone for a chocolate bar. Being a teenager was bad enough, being a teenager in a zombie apocalypse was something else entirely. At least Charlie kept his slim figure. His traditional blue shirt still fit him surprisingly. All the chocolate stains were washed out years ago but it was something he couldn't get rid of. The fact that it still fit him had to mean something, especially with how skinny he kept his body over the last ten years. If someone took a quick glance at him, they'd think he was a pure athlete.

For a while, the roof of PS 118 was the safe house for Charlie and Gerald, until a horde broke into the school and chased them off. Gerald gave Charlie quite the hard time after Charlie continuously swore the door was sealed off. Charlie could only claim he heard maniacal laughing just minutes before the infected broke in.

Gerald turned the corner onto 34th street.

"There's nothing here Gerald. You're not gonna find what you're looking for." said Charlie.

"You know you quit too easily kid. Where was this mindset of yours when you were stuck on the sweet stuff? Just keep it down, Arnold's out here, he wouldn't abandon his home that quickly. We're gonna double back onto 33rd again, maybe something's changed." Gerald said. Charlie sighed with exhaustion as Gerald turned the truck around.

33rd was just as dead. Charlie looked at Gerald in discomfort, with eyes of reassurance. Gerald ignored Charlie's perturbed gaze as he continued to glance around all sides of the truck for a single sign of life.

The buckets of slop continued to work magnificently.

The truck's beams of light shot outward. Any zombies in front cleared from the pain of the brightness, completely indifferent to the truck's presence. Light appeared to weaken them, if only for a moment.

Charlie stuck his head out the back window and took a whiff of the slop buckets, before he heard a vocal roar in the distance.

He pulled his head back in and started to glance in all directions, listening for the sound. Gerald noticed his piquing interest.

"What is it?" Gerald asked.

"Someone's crying for help..." Gerald began to look around frantically as well.

Charlie noticed a light flickering just up ahead on the roof of a small building with a green awning. He didn't need to read the "Green Meats" sign painted on the window to recognize it was Marty Green's meat shop.

But recognizing the shop was the last thing he noticed, the first thing was the horde surrounding the building followed by the tiny bodies waving their arms frantically on the roof.

Charlie pointed and cried out, "Out there, by Mr. Green's shop!"

Gerald leaned forward and squinted. Sure enough, he spotted the four figures on the roof of Green's shop, hopping up and down. The horde clawed at the walls and windows, hungry for their meal.

Without a word, Gerald floored the truck, striking a few walking corpses along the way. The activity still left all infected on the streets indifferent. Gerald's "recipe" was just that good.

They slowly pulled up and stopped the truck a few feet from the horde.

"I'll toss a slop bucket on the psychos, you find a way up to that rooftop." Gerald reached under his seat and pulled out a razor sharp machete. Even in total darkness, the blade found a way to glitter with ferocity. 

Charlie climbed out first, and snatched a bucket of slop from the truck bed. His quick thrust of the bucket caused a little dab of it to throw up on his shirt. Charlie gagged for a moment before his adrenaline started spiking. The infected began to charge at him.

With one quick rev-up and thrust, Charlie tossed the slop on the infected.

Like little kids at nap time, the infected became comatose, as if they didn't just see fresh meat standing in front of them.

Gerald dashed for the side of the building, hacking the heads off any psycho that stood in his way. Gerald maneuvered his way to the alley, where he looked at the roof and called up to the figures on the roof.

"Arnold! Arnold you up there man!" Gerald called. "Arnold!" He cried again, this time with more desperation in his voice. A few seconds later, a football shaped head peaked over the side.

"Gerald!" Arnold replied with great delight. Next, Stinky stuck his big pencil head out towards Gerald's vision.

"Well if it ain't Geraldo, in the flesh. You're lookin good sonny boy! Lose weight?" Stinky joked, attempting to lighten the mood of their current circumstances. The shakiness in his voice gave away his humorous facade.

"I'd be skinnier than you Stinky, who's there with you." Gerald said, playing along.

"Stinky, Harold and Eugene. You got room in your truck?" Arnold responded.

"You can sit in the bed, hope you like the smell of ranch and cat food." Gerald murmured.

"What?"

"Long story. I'll explain when I get up there witcha."

"We used those bins to your right as a ladder, knocked them down so they couldn't get us." Arnold said.

"Copy that Arnoldo." Gerald replied. He proceeded to make the makeshift staircase.

"Got maybe five more minutes before the slop wears off, Gerald!" Charlie called from the truck which was still warm and vibrating. Gerald began to hustle and slowly began his ascent up to the building.

The boxes suddenly jerked from under Gerald. Before he could topple with them, Arnold was there to grab his hand and help him up. Gerald found himself on top of the creaky rooftop of Green's shop to see Arnold and Stinky beside him.

Eugene was standing on the edge with his hands in his pockets, staring down at what would be his death if he stepped forward and depended on gravity to save him.

Harold was leaning against the exhaust vent, clutching his right hand which appeared to bleed over the fingers of his left hand. Gerald started to march towards him.

"What's with big boy Harold?" Gerald asked.

"Oh it's nothing; he had an accident trying to get up here. Broke his finger." Arnold explained with an obscure impatience in his tone.

"Why's there blood all over him? He needed a band-aid for something broken?" Gerald asked, more suspicious.

"Really Gerald it's nothing." Arnold croaked again, more shyness in his reply.

"Sure don't sound like nothing to you or me." Gerald said, he leaned down and snagged Harold's hand, pulling it away from his own clutches. In horror, Gerald stared at Harold's left hand, missing a finger and green pus pulsating from the open veins. Gerald dropped it and backed away in disgust.

His right hand crept towards the handle of his machete which was holstered.

Arnold spotted this and waved his hands in disarray, "Gerald wait!"

"You saw it yourself Arnold, when this all began. Ten seconds, that's all it takes to turn from a bite! Why the fuck is he still breathing!?"

"We cut the finger, see?" Arnold fretted, "Thought that'd buy us some time, but he's not getting better..." He reluctantly let the truth out with the last of his breath. Gerald looked at Arnold and back down at Harold. Eugene noticed them and started to walk towards them.

Gerald only looked at Arnold with disappointment. And yet, a certain warmth in him reminded Gerald this is how his best friend always was.

"It was a good cause, Gerald. He did what he could to save us from Arnold's boarding house." Eugene chimed in.

"You lost the house?" Gerald asked.

Arnold shook his head in disgust.

"We were dead men if we stayed. Soon as we went out those doors they were everywhere. Woulda found us sooner or later." Stinky chimed in.

"So you baited our friend to save your own skins…" Gerald muttered.

"I wasn't bait, Gerald," Harold spoke up, grunting, "I volunteered. It was the best I could do, with what I thought I had..." Harold grunted, "Dad always taught me, 'never let hope turn into expectation.'"

"How much time you got left?" Gerald asked bluntly.

"Maybe half an hour. If it wasn't for Arnold's pairing knife, I would've turned by now." Harold's voice began to weaken.

"That's for damn sure." Gerald responded, he turned and pulled Arnold aside. "Arnold, we can't take him with us. We either take care of him now, or let him suffer."

"Two more minutes guys!" Charlie cried from the truck, he could hear and see the infected starting to pick up their pace of roaming, their rotted noses twitching, picking up a familiar scent.

"Arnold we gotta do it now or never. Harold's a walking time bomb, we can't take him with us!" Gerald raised his voice. Arnold started to speak. But Harold coughed.

"I'll go out there." Harold said. Everybody turned toward him, "I'll go out there and drive them away as far as I can. I'll run south. You guys head north, Stinky's got his own truck at his place. Get there then get the hell out of here." Harold finished as he staggered to his feet.

"Harold, no, there's got to be some other way." Arnold begged.

"One minute!" Charlie cried.

"Arnold, you've always had my back for better or worse. I owe you my life anyways for San Lorenzo." Harold chortled a little bit and smiled. "I'll drive them away. When you hear me hit the ground, you take off and go." Harold's legs started to shake but Eugene helped support him as he waltzed over to the edge of the building, standing over the immense horde of infected, a twelve foot drop at his feet.

Harold looked at everybody and then back to the ledge.

Before Harold turned back towards the horde down below him, Arnold saw a tear shining off his cheek from the street light a few feet away.

Arnold realized the mornings would always start with the spill of blood in this new world.

"Good luck big boy." Gerald said.

Harold chortled again as he exclaimed, "Shoulda seen me earlier Gerald, I was a beast, drove them off a mile. God, I was fast."

"Always had it in you Harold." Arnold said with a smile.

"Bye guys, you know what to do." Harold said. With that, he leaned forward, shouted "Geronimo!" and landed on the pavement.

The zombies barely noticed him as the odor of the slop was still barely hanging on. Harold looked around for a moment, regaining his bearings. He started to sprint down the street to the left,

"COME ON YOU ROTTING FUCKS! COME GET YOUR MEAL!" Harold cried through tears of adrenaline, his voice scratchy with the pain of fear.

Slowly but surely, the horde started to draw away from the building and began to pick up Harold's scent. They started to growl and snarl. Before long, they were sprinting down the road after their newfound bait.

The group still on the roof took their moment of silence and Gerald spoke up, "That's that, let's get moving."

He turned around, and leapt off the rooftop to the side, Arnold, Stinky, and Eugene followed suit. They ran back around to the front of the building where Charlie was waiting.

"Let's get the heck out of here!" Eugene exclaimed. He, Arnold and Stinky hopped in the back of the truck, and Gerald slid into the passenger seat.

Charlie struggled with the key.

"Come on Chocolate Boy, let's go!" Gerald cried.

"Don't call me that!" Charlie cried as he kept turning the key, only to get grinding metal noises in response.

"The engine's not sparking! Key won't start the damn thing!" Charlie said as he gruntingly turned the key repetitively.

"Let's goooo!" Gerald cried again. Charlie continued to struggle until he stopped. The truck went silent when they heard a sound.

This sound echoed down the street, distant at first but slowly started to grow louder. It was a howling screech, like a derailing train scraping the rails as it tumbled. Everybody in the truck slowly turned toward the direction of the sound. What they saw was horrifying. Arnold stared in horror as what appeared to be thousands upon thousands of bloodthirsty monsters sprinting down the street charging directly at the truck.

Charlie sat in the driver's seat, his hands trembling, causing the keys in his hand to drop to the floor of the truck.

"Is this really happening fellers?" Stinky whimpered, his voice sounding like a fifth grader in a haunted house.

"I think so Stinky.." Arnold mumbled. Before he knew it, a hand grasped Arnold from behind and pulled him off the truck bed to the street asphalt below. Arnold looked up at his captor and horrifyingly gasped at the sight of a zombified Harold, heavily breathing. His eyes glowed a faint green hue. His chest pumped in and out like a wild animal. His white shirt was coated with viscous saliva still drooling from his mouth. Arnold could only stare at the stars above as the horde slammed into the truck, overtaking his friends, and Harold bending down to tear open Arnold's throa-

The truck bounced from a rock on the street, Arnold's head slammed against the window and woke him up.

"Rise and shine Arnold! You done near passed out as soon as we got to the truck." Stinky said, his hands gripping the wheel. Arnold panned his eyes over to the passenger seat where Eugene was leaning around and looking at him.

"Looks like you needed that rest Arnold." Eugene said with a smile. Arnold then looked over to his left side and saw Harold there, his arm resting on the window sill and looking out to the deep night sky.

"Whe-where are we?" Arnold choked.

"35th street, Harold was lucky he didn't get caught up in his sprinting, getting to the truck wasn't so hard, now was it?" Stinky responded.

Arnold looked out, the apartment buildings towered over them, businesses that would never see another customer. Blood was scraped and caked along the sidewalk. A couple blocks over, they could hear a couple gunshots and the familiar screeching of the infected.

"Go back to 33rd." Arnold ordered.

"33rd? Arnold, we just came from 34th. I thought getting the hell outta Hillwood was your idea?" Stinky bewilderingly asked.

"There's somewhere we have to go...I just have a feeling. I don't know what." Arnold thought of his dream, of Gerald and Charlie, of Mr. Green's meat shop.

"Whatever you say Arnold." Stinky said. He sighed with exhaustion and turned at the next corner.

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To Be Continued


	3. Marty Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arnold's unexplainable vision leads his group to a clue and a reunion with an old friend.

**Hey Zombies**

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_Marty Green_

The wheels of the truck kicked up dust from the road. The particles danced in the wind.

Everything seemed to inhibit the truck's path as it inched towards Green Meats; debris, empty trash bins, shattered glass, corpses.

"Right here's good." Arnold uttered quietly. Stinky adjusted the wheel and pulled the truck closer to the abandoned shop, close enough to not be detected and at the same time distant enough from the shop for a quick getaway.

"Kill the engine." Harold whispered, leaning in towards Stinky and then back towards the door, delicately opening the car door as if it were an expensive piece of art. Stinky turned the key, shutting off the engine, and put the key in his pocket. He reached behind the seat and pulled out the shotgun from the sleeve on the back of the passenger chair.

One by one, the four piled out of the truck, and approached the front entrance of Green's shop.

"No lights. I don't hear a thing." Harold said through shortened breaths. Pain in his chest lingered from his death-defying sprint during their grand escape just over an hour ago.

"Sure am smelling a thing, gee." Stinky said, holding his lanky nose. Eugene choked a bit.

"Who knows how much produce is rotting in there." Eugene piped in, "Arnold, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm positive Eugene. Come on, we'll go in together." Arnold replied.

"Great, you first Arnold." Harold chided.

Arnold approached the door, its bottom half still standing and attached to the hinges while the top half was completely smashed in, as if someone...or something broke in from the outside with immense strength. Carefully, Arnold took it step by step, climbing over the intact part of the door and placing his feet on the green tile floor which was surprisingly dry and absent of any sort of mess or human remains. Arnold slowly rotated around the room, observing his surroundings as the rest of the group entered. The first thing to catch Arnold's attention was a low consistent humming that came from behind the back door; next was the foul odor that hovered around them.

"Great, we're here, now what?" Harold said.

"Try the lights." Arnold ordered.

"Arnold, we're livin' in a world where everything is destroyed, what makes you think the lights are gonna work here out of all places?" Stinky questioned. Arnold looked back at him, determined.

"Just do it." Arnold casually strolled toward the front counter after replying. Stinky sighed and walked over to the light switch, flicking it. A quiet buzz echoed the room for a second and then ceased. No lights turned on.

"Eugene, come with me, we're gonna check the back. Stinky and Harold, look for anything useful; food, knives, maybe Marty had a gun behind the counter."

Arnold approached the door to the back storage room. It was still intact and almost looked brand new. Arnold slowly opened it and Eugene followed, leaving Harold to examine Green's family pictures on the walls and Stinky to rummage behind the counter.

The storage room was just as empty. The walls extended further back into several square feet of darkness. As it was for every shop and store in Hillwood, it looked bigger on the inside then the out.

The low droning hum was the only thing Arnold kept hearing. As he brought it to Eugene's attention as well, the two began to seek out the source of the noise. Arnold walked one way and the sound started to get quieter, Eugene walked the other way and it got louder. The hum was at its loudest at a door to the employee restroom. As he got closer, it started to sound like an engine.

"Arnold check this out." Eugene called as he reached for the knob. The door was locked. As Arnold approached the door, he caught site of an orange wire running from under the crack at the bottom of the door to a busted hole in the wall back towards the door to the front of the store.

"Wait Eugene, don't do anything yet. I'm gonna try something first." Arnold exclaimed. He walked away, glancing one last time at Eugene to check his safety, and approached the light switch they had passed when they entered the room. Slowly and quietly, Arnold reached out with his hand, pinched the switch with his two big fingers and moved it upward. The lights instantly clicked on. Both Eugene and Arnold flinched with pain at the sudden burst of light.

"Turn it off, turn it off!" Eugene whispered loudly. Arnold agreed, knowing any source of light could draw attention from "unwanted guests". After he turned the switch off, he went back over to Eugene at the door with the hum on the other side, "On three?"

"On three." Arnold replied. The two counted down and then slammed into the door with their shoulders. The impact noise carried into the front room where it caught Stinky's attention. He glanced over towards the door to the backroom, then returned to searching.

"Again." Arnold said, the two backed up, and then synchronously slammed into the door, their momentum carrying them into the newly opened room. After regaining their balance, they looked around at pasty white tiles, cracks in the ceiling and a single bathroom stall which emitted the humming noise even louder. A stench, like extinguished gasoline, filled the utility bathroom.

For a second, Arnold remembered how Marty never let anyone use this bathroom without buying at least an ounce of meat. 

Arnold went towards the stall, taking it slower with every step as he inched closer. Slowly, Arnold creeped his hand up and pushed the stall door inward. It revealed a large metallic box with red bars running around the exterior. A small green light emitted from the top where the orange wire connected next to a small screw cap. The gasoline stench was even more pungent.

"A generator." Eugene sniffed, "Still running."

"Maybe we can siphon the gas out and use it for the truck." Arnold suggested as he left the room, leaving Eugene to examine the generator. Arnold went back out front to find Stinky and Harold returning from the truck, loading up everything they could find; a cardboard box with a few cans and a bottle with something in it. Harold had found a leather pouch with a couple kitchen knives in it.

"We found a generator, it's still going so we might get a decent amount of gas from it."

Just as Arnold left the back room, a shadowy figure snuck past the entry door and entered the bathroom. Eugene had crouched down to examine the generator closer and started to unscrew the gas cap. As soon as he cracked it open, two grimy hands gripped Eugene by the shoulder. The figure growled and tossed him out of the stall, slamming him against the tiled wall.

The impact caught the trio's attention in the storefront and they dashed back to the storage room, quickly turning into the bathroom. Stinky grabbed his shotgun off the counter and followed suit-Suddenly his foot got caught on the generator cord sending him tumbling to the floor and the shotgun flying several feet further into the room.

Arnold and the group piled at the bathroom door to see the overweight figure towering over an incapacitated Eugene, a long metallic object raised in his hand. The shadow noticed Arnold at the door and began to charge him, screaming in a raspy voice. The three dashed out of the way, dodging the hefty character as it came charging out swinging its club around. Stinky regained his balance and dove for the shotgun but Arnold picked it up first, rapidly shaking his head at Stinky. Arnold knew who the shadowy figure was. He then went to the light switch and turned it on again.

The shadowy clad figure, once bathed in the pale white light, was revealed to be Marty Green.

"Mr. Green! It's ok, it's us!" As Arnold and the group approached, surrounding Marty, Marty started to slow down his swinging, and his gritted teeth started to loosen. His cries of fear grew calmer and quieter.

"Mr. Green, it's Harold, Stinky, Arnold, and Eugene. We're not infected, we're here in the flesh."

"Take it easy, Marty." Marty started to squint, dashing his eyes between the three young adults before him.

"Ar-Arnold?" Marty said in his raspy voice, his eyes focusing from the light that struck his pupils.

"Yes Mr. Green. It's us. Put the crowbar down." Arnold said with a smile. Marty let the metal bar droop in his hand, loosening his grip.

"My god. Never thought I'd see you boys again. After all the shit these past two weeks, never thought I'd live to see anybody ever again." Marty ranted with a cough to the floor. When he raised his head again, Stinky could notice spittle drops of red in the spot where Marty coughed.

"Have you been alone this whole time?" Harold asked.

"Willie was here for a few days, but being locked up in here didn't sit so well for him." Marty coughed again, this time internally.

"Guy went nuts like he always does and actually tried letting those psychos in here. Nearly killed the bastard trying to throw him out...you know how the 'Jolly Olly Man' always was." Marty said sarcastically. Something about Marty's story unraveled some deja vu in Arnold's head...then he remembered his dream.

"I'm sure he's okay. He wasn't always crazy." Stinky objected.

"Eugene...the bastard's probably cutting off heads left and right whether they're human or not. Guy was always a psychopath. How'd you get in here anyway?" Marty asked.

"The front door was bashed in. We heard the humming of your generator so we came back here to check it out."

"Yeah that damn thing's been keepin me alive. Don't know what I'd do without it."

"How much gas does it have?" Stinky asked.

"The tank's maybe half full, and I've got a can with about five more gallons in that corner over there." Marty responded, "You're welcome to anything you need."

"Come with us Mr. Green! We've got a truck, that gas will get us at least several miles out of town." Arnold suggested.

"I would Arnold, but I don't know if I'd be able to leave. I mean I'm big, you guys are small, I'd burden you too much." Marty replied. As he spoke, Stinky started to notice Marty's hands, the hand not holding the crowbar had a faded colored bandage wrapped around the pinky, or at least where Marty's pinky should be, "Besides, I love my shop, feel like I was born to live and die with this place in my hands, heh." Marty ended, he started to walk back towards the front room, "Sorry about Eugene by the way. Is he okay?" He said.

Just as Marty spoke, Eugene came stumbling out, his hand clutching his shoulder, "I'm okay." Eugene droned.

"Come on Mr. Green, this may seem like the end, but we've got so much more to live for. All of the neighborhood kids love you and your shop. Do you realize how much it would mean if they saw that you survived? How much hope it could bring?" Arnold said.

"I can't, Arnold. In fact, now that you mention it, your friends came through here just a few days ago." Marty said.

Arnold stopped, his head started to spin, thoughts began to pour out, thoughts of hope, dread, fear. Remembering his vision once more, Arnold took a shot in the dark, "Was it Gerald and Charlie?"

"Yeah…yeah in fact it was them two, they came in and asked if I'd seen you. You came across them too?" Marty asked.

"I…I don't know. Figured I'd take a guess about my best friend." Arnold responded with a poor excuse. How could he tell everyone he had a premonition? The rest of his group looked at him dumbfoundedly. Arnold questioned his own clairvoyance as well.

"Well regardless, they were asking about you and the boarding house. Apparently there were too many of those things to get to your house. They said they were gonna keep heading west towards P.S. 220, just on the outskirts of town." Marty said.

"Come on Arnold, let's go. Maybe Gerald's got a safe house set up at the school." Harold suggested.

"No, Harold," Arnold pleaded, "Marty, I am not leaving you here to die. You deserve better than that." Arnold said sternly. Marty was shocked that Arnold had called an adult by their first name for the first time in his life.

"Arnold. You're a good kid. Always have been a pusher, not for the bad, but for the good of everyone in Hillwood. You have no idea how good you are." Marty said, coughing again, leaning against the doorway to the front lobby.

"I do what I can." Arnold said, still stern.

"And that's why you're bringing this place back to life someday. You and your friends are like a gift to me. Every time I saw any one of you come in. Harold, I still remember how much of a pest you were, wanting to work for me, every day." Harold smiled at his remark, "And Stinky, I still recall the meat feast your family put on for Thanksgiving. That was my biggest sale in Green Meat's history. Thank you for that Stinky." Arnold could see a tear glistening in Marty's eye.

"Mr. Gre-Marty.. Why are you telling us all this?" Arnold asked solemnly.

"Can't tell you Arnold. But I can tell you, you need to get out of here and quick. I don't know how much time I've got left." Marty responded.

"Why's that…"

"I think I know Arnold. Show us the pinky, Mr. Green." Stinky said with crossed arms.

Marty realized he had been discovered. He started to approach the boys, unwrapping the bandages on his pinky. As he peeled the last of it off, the four revolted in disgust to see Marty's pinky completely hacked off, and green pus pulsing from the open veins. Eugene retched at the sight.

Arnold's vision tunneled, the sight looked eerily familiar to what happened to Harold in his dream; same hand, same finger, same color of pus…

Arnold began to realize what his dream was telling him, "Mr. Green… How long ago had this been?"

"Three days ago. One of them crashed through that door back there. I got him but only before the bastard nicked my hand. Cutting off the wound as close to the body as possible seems to slow it down but I can tell I don't have much longer. Seriously, Arnold you guys need to get out of here and quick. Find your friends and start anew."

Arnold sulked his head, realizing what was about to happen.

"I know how it must feel, getting your life back, and having it taken away from you. Your parents actually bought from me once or twice when they lived here. They're beautiful people, and they raised a beautiful son." Marty's voice began to shake as he staggered. His legs turned to spaghetti and he collapsed against a shelf.

Arnold continued to remain silent. Eugene started to approach him to convince him to leave.

"Ten years ain't enough time to catch up with your life, son. I still remember the day you returned. You had your parents by your side and that girl was holding your hand..I'll never forget how glowing you were…I could tell you were finally happy. Understand this, Arnold, go out there. Go out there and get your life back...will ya do that for me Arnold?" Marty sobbed.

Arnold slowly raised his head and looked Marty directly in the eyes, "I swear it."

Marty returned Arnold's answer with one final jolly smile.

"Come on Arnold," Eugene said, "If Gerald and Chocolate Boy are out there looking for us like he said, they can't be far away." Arnold nodded; he turned and started to follow everybody else out. Arnold looked back one more time to see Marty Green, sitting there. A combination of fear and pride on his face.

"Take care Arnold. Tell Helga and your parents I said hey." Marty said with a wink and a smile.

Arnold choked on a single sob and a tear dripped down his cheek.

"Wait," Marty called, "Stinky, come here with that shotgun." Stinky looked at the group and went back to Marty. Arnold, Eugene, and Harold went back out, and approached the truck.

"Wasn't a good idea to open that bandage. At least it'll be over soon now. Stinky you know what to do." The words felt forced through Marty's shaky voice.

"I do, Mr. Green." Stinky responded as he towered over Marty who started to grunt with pain, his freckled face matted with sweat.

"Don't waste a single second now." Marty said. Stinky nodded. They waited in silence for a few more seconds. Then Marty said, "What about your family Stinky?"

"Gone...both of them. Family's all gone..." Stinky said sullenly.

"They're not all gone Stinky...right out there." Marty spent the last of his energy gesturing towards the door that the rest of the group left through, "Arnold and those boys and anybody else you find. They're your family now. Don't forget that." Marty comforted him. He began to grunt again, louder this time. Stinky knew it was getting closer and he backed away. A glance of horror cascaded over Stinky's face as Marty began to twitch, the infection slowly taking him over.

As Marty took in his final breath, he said, "At least we took care of those damn potholes." Marty grunted with a smile, his memory neurons firing as life began to leave his body. He exhaled all the breath he had left, and before the air was gone, he was gone. His body continued to twitch however. The reanimation process was already starting.

Stinky cocked the shotgun and aimed it at Marty's body.

Outside, Eugene and Harold were sitting on the edge of the truck bed and Arnold rested against the driver's door, his head in his elbow.

All of a sudden they heard a loud screech, and soon after, a loud gunshot that seemed to echo for hours…..

.

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To Be Continued


	4. Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hell breaks loose just as Arnold's about to make a big announcement. In the present day, Arnold and company make a daring attempt for sanctuary.

**Hey Zombies**

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_Before The Storm_

Arnold sat at his desk, ballpoint pen gripped tightly in his fingers as he scribbled thoughts in his leather journal. The date at the top of his latest entry read _June 30, 2012._

_“...feelings. Can’t get a grip on what I’m thinking. A whole decade and here I am, like nothing’s changed. School, community service, her...it’s all become just a blur...I need to make a big change. The apartment on 51st street is still open and Helga’s more ready than ever. Just a couple more months helping Mr. Green and should have enough for the deposit and first month’s rent…”_

Arnold paused, then vigorously erased everything back to "deposit".

_“Deposit **s**...plural. If Kay’s still has the ring on hold for me by then, I’m going through with it.”_

.

Downstairs, Miles reclined on the living room couch, staring blankly at the tv. An eerie sense of dread on his leathery face as he watched the news, keeping an eye out for breaking stories. His fading blonde hair twinkled under the dimmed ceiling lights, reaching up towards the ceiling thanks to his wife's product. Every now and then, he glanced down at his laptop which sat on the coffee table in front of him. An Excel document was opened with cryptic numbers and dates.

At the top it read _“Research-Item 17M”._

One note on the screen stood out amongst the rest with its exponential length:

“1 month since lost contact with research team in San Lorenzo-JG." JG meaning jungle. "Should have recorded phone call with Jack. No contact since then. Richtofen still dark in Portland since a month ago. Nothing but ‘I’m busy I’m busy I’m busy’ responses. Possible dabbling with Item 17M? Richtofen taking liberties? Higher-ups at Alpha station say to stand down. They don’t know the big picture. No objections, no argument. We’re going to FTi Omega in Portland, TOMORROW.”

A shelf towered over the couch behind Miles, decorated with medals and framed certifications; a wall of success for Miles and his family. Arnold’s school diplomas rested at the top, working down to Stella’s medical awards and achievements. Miles' recognitions laid the foundation of this wall.

His PhD next to Stella's, plaques, documents, trophies, all resting on the shelf with everything else hanging above. Miles' military achievement was the most significant, everything he and Stella accomplished when they returned from the jungle.

Right at the center of the shelf was a platinum eagle with its arms expanded; the insignia representing a U.S. Military Colonel.

Along the bottom were rows of national newspapers, amongst them were headlines that read:

 _"_ _HEROES OF SAN LORENZO RETURN AFTER 9 YEAR SLUMBER"_

_"SETTLEMENT FOR FUTURE TECH INDUSTRIES REAL ESTATE, IMMEDIATE EXPANSION TO MILITARY/SCIENCE FUNDING IN SAN LORENZO"_

_"FUTURE TECH INDUSTRIES THE NEW SUPERPOWER?"_

_"FUTURE TECH INDUSTRIES EXPANDING TO MEDICAL SCIENCE!"_

Miles reached into the pocket of his button-down shirt and pulled out his ePhone. He pressed his thumb against the screen and a digital green line hovered up and down before disappearing and opening the main menu. Miles pressed Contacts and scrolled down to ‘Work-Victor’.

He pressed Send:

 _Brrrrrrrrrr……...Brrrrrrrrrrr……..Brrrrrrrrrrrr……...Brrrrrrrrrr_ * _click_ * _“The agent you are trying to contact is unavailable. If you know their FTi office extension, please enter it now- **BEEP!”**_

Miles tapped the shiny red hang up icon and angrily tossed the phone onto the table. He quietly stood up and walked into the hallway.

Before he turned towards the kitchen, he stopped to glance at a portrait of his mother Gertie, standing proudly in her George Washington outfit.

With a smile, Miles turned and entered the kitchen where his father, Phil, was preparing some lunch.

“Saving the world again eh son?” Phil joked.

“Something like that, dad…” Miles sullenly replied. He walked past his father, still full of strength and pep, and opened the refrigerator door to grab a beer.

After popping the cap off his beverage into the sink, he turned back to Phil.

“Listen Dad, about the Fourth of July 'extravaganza', I’m sorry we can’t be here. FTi needs us in Portland for some business with the superiors out there.” Miles lied through his teeth.

“Oh you know it’s fine son. We’ll have plenty of fun here like we always do. Besides, it’s not me you should be apologizing to.” Phil said before directing his gaze upwards towards the ceiling. Miles looked up as well, knowing his son’s room was right above them.

 _Knock knock knock_. Miles turned towards the front hallway where he saw a tall stick figure looking silhouette next to a smaller ovular looking one, recognizing their shapes almost instantly through the front door.

Miles glanced at his father and then marched towards the front door to answer it.

He let off a small chuckle of delight at the presence he saw before him.

Miles turned back towards the stairs and hollered, “Arnold! Stinky and Eugene are here!”

Upstairs, Arnold took one last glance at his latest entry before closing his journal and gently tucking it into a small brown backpack next to his desk.

“Arnold!” His dad called once more.

“Coming!” Arnold cried with a gunslinger response. He opened his bedroom door and practically tossed his body down the stairs, his red plaid pearl-snap shirt fluttering in the drifty air.

"Guys!" Arnold hollered with delight as he rushed to wrap his friends in a warming and welcoming embrace.

"Can't believe you showed up!" He said again.

"It’s summer vacation! Didn’t think we’d spend it without visiting didja?" Stinky said.

"We just got back a couple days ago in fact. Our lease expired first week of June, so here we are!" Eugene replied in his signature cheeky optimistic tone.

“The house looks great Arnold! Anyone stick around?”

“Yeah Mr. Hyunh is still here, his daughter visits every so often. Oscar and Suzie are here, still married believe it or not...Ernie got a contracter job in California, still writes us, aaand apparently he met a woman!” Arnold punch-lined with a chuckle.

"So how was your first semester at DeVry?" Arnold asked.

"Glum...real glum, but we had each other to get settled in. With a house to share, same gen ed classes, we did alright for ourselves." Stinky responded.

“The university’s last play was Eugene Eugene! Felt like old times yknow?” Eugene added with his traditional angelic grin.

"Wish I could've seen it Eugene, wouldn’t miss it for the world. I missed out on a lot didn’t I? What, with my classes and community service, plus my job at the meat shop-”

"Gee Arnold, ten years out of the jungle and you really are a changed man!" Stinky said.

"Providing for his community and caring more about others than himself?" Eugene interrupted, "Arnold hasn't changed one bit!"

Arnold just gaffawed again once more as he invited them up to his room.

Miles watched them go up the stairs. His optimistic gaze quickly melted into sternness once more as he walked back down the hallway. He turned the corner towards his bedroom, in the hallway under the stairs. Miles quietly opened the door and saw his wife, Stella pacing around the bed.

Miles immediately noticed the ePhone glued to her ear. Even with as beautiful as she was, he could tell in an instant that Stella was panicked.

She turned as she heard her husband walk in and threw the phone on the bed frustratingly. “Still nothing.” She said.

Miles marched up to his wife. He knew who she was trying to reach.

“Hun you know Eduardo can take care of himself. It might just be an energy pocket, something could've wiped out the camp’s power again and they have no signal.”

“Power surges don’t knock out cell phones unless there was some kind of pulse, which we know the Corazon needs incredible amounts of charge to emit! God dammit Miles, this is real. Victor promised he wasn’t going to try anything with the artifact. And now he’s got our jungle crew involved. Our best friend!”

Miles firmly grasped Stella by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. He barely had time to recognize the smoothness of her skin.

“There’s nothing we can do here. If we really want to find out what’s going on, we need to go to Portland. The Omega base is our best chance at a direct line to the San Lorenzo camp. If anybody knows anything, it’s them.”

Stella just stared back, her eyes still flooded with fear. Miles glared back at her, his eyes filled with intent.

“We have to get on a plane _tonight_...”

.

Meanwhile, up in Arnold's room, "So Arnold, your parents doing alright workin' for that German feller?" Stinky asked?

"You could say that...creative differences is the best way to put it. Dad’s top dog at FTi and sometimes it’s hard to find compromise on a lot of their projects."

"To think that Future Tech Industries was once just a real estate agency years ago...I’m surprised that Victor guy hasn’t run for president with all that money of his.” Eugene snarked.

“It’s always money with Victor Richtofen, Stinky,” Arnold chided, “…my parents were always about the science.” Arnold grunted with a sigh and got back on his feet, "9 years...9 years they sacrificed for the good of the Green Eyed People and they reaped so much from it. Now Victor is trying to take them for everything they've earned. They know it but...they're just trying to get by."

"We all paid a price in the jungle Arnold. It's just a manner of how we handled it. I discovered a new allergy! And Stinky found out how good leeches taste on a fire!" Eugene jestered.

"So Arnold. Tell us, did you get it?" Eugene followed up, attempting to brighten the mood. He tucked his legs under his feet and placed his hands on his knee caps, like a second grade girl at a slumber party. Stinky, aware of what Eugene was asking, also leaned forward in anticipation.

Arnold turned around, his melancholy gaze slowly grew into a smile once more.

"Actually I was thinking of getting it in a couple weeks." He said with his signature grin.

Eugene and Stinky both hopped from their seats in surprise.

"About time Arnold! Took you guys twenty years to get on the same goddamn page!." Stinky encouraged.

“More like ten seconds inside the temple!” Eugene muttered with a wink, throwing back to when Arnold finally kissed Helga back in the temple during their San Lorenzo excursion, returning a whole decade of romance that Helga threw at him in under a minute. 

Arnold gave him a glare that would send the Hulk crying for his mother.

"What's the ring like? Is it round? Shiny? Is the diamond huge?!" Eugene exclaimed, hastily changing the subject.

"Slow down Eugene. Listen, it's perfect for her, that's all I care about. I'm ready and so is she."

"You guys need a planner? I've learned some expert techniques on how to make an outstanding wedding!" Eugene said.

"I'll keep in touch, ya never know." Arnold said with a smirk.

.

Miles began to storm up the stairs to Arnold's room. Stella quickly followed behind him.

"Miles, we can't do it this fast. We have to be subtle." Stella whispered.

"There's no time for subtle Stella." Miles responded.

"You heard him! He said he was gonna propose to Helga at the Fourth of July barbecue. How do you think he’s gonna feel!?"

“In time, he’ll understand. We’ll help him recover his memory and it’ll get him on our side.”

“‘On our side??’ He’s our son!” Stella whispered quietly, “He’s not a piece on your chess board against Victor.”

Miles ignored his wife as he prepared to knock on Arnold's door.

_**SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!** _

Miles and Stella directed their attention down the stairs towards the front door. 

_**SLAM!....SLAM!...SLAM!.....** _

_“Somebody! Anybody help! Please!”_ cried a familiar grainy voice from the other side of the door.

Miles rushed to it and opened it up.

Harold was standing there, sweat matted on his grey UnderArmour shirt. Miles could see his legs shaking.

Miles knew Harold was easily afraid but this felt like genuine fear. 

“Harold! What is it?-”

“It’s---it’s….” Harold struggled to maintain his breath, “It’s Mrs. Vitello! She’s---there’s something wrong with her...she just collapsed...I---I didn’t know---where to go….I just saw your house….911 is coming….please you’re a doctor right?!?!” Harold said as he backed down the steps, beckoning Miles to follow him.

“Miles what’s wrong?” Stella called, still leaning on the stairs. Miles waved his hand.

“Just stay inside, I got this.” Miles objected in a low tone.

Stella gripped the banister tightly...her greatest fears may have begun coming true.

“Mom?” said Arnold behind her. Stella turned to see her son, who had opened the door when he heard the commotion. He was beautiful as always, but gleaming with confusion.

.

Miles dashed outside and spotted the group huddled in the street, several feet from the front stairs. Harold could say nothing, choking on his fear. All he could do was point.

Miles got the gist and started making his way towards the circle of people, clustered around something in the center.

Gently pushing people aside, Miles spotted Harvey the mailman in the clutter, and then noticed the person laying on the ground.

Mrs. Vitello, in her atypical outfit, black turtleneck and green apron, was twisted. No one noticed her leg slightly twitching.

A cardboard box sat inches from her body, a few droplets of blood were soaked into it.

Miles knelt down and touched Mrs. Vitello by the cheek, turning her neck. Immediately, he drew his hand back when he spotted the blood dribbling from her lips.

“She came staggering out of her shop clutching her head and man I don’t know, just collapsed!” Harvey uttered to Miles.

He was speechless, thinking to himself if this really was what he and Stella feared.

“Ambulance on their way?” Miles asked, looking at Harvey seeing as he was the only one who seemed to give a damn about what was happening right in front of their eyes.

Harvey just nodded.

“Okay, let’s give her some air people, come on, move back.” Miles began waving his arms around the circle whom began to move back in sync.

The twitch in Mrs. Vitello's leg started to crawl up her side to her shoulder and arm…

.

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked, still extremely worried.

“Arnold this is going to be hard to understand-” Stella choked as she attempted to explain years of research and science and personal experience to her son. 

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. She bent down to pull it out of her cargo pants and unlocked it to reveal an anonymous text message.

**CHECK THE NEWS**

Miles came bursting through the front door. Harold followed behind him.

Stella and Arnold directed their attention towards him. His shirt had fresh blood on it.

“We have to leave...now.” Miles sternly demanded.

“It’s happening?” Stella asked, her voice trembling.

Miles just nodded.

The two set the boarding house on fire with urgency. People came pouring out of their bedrooms as Miles and Stella started rushing people out into the living room.

Oscar Kokashka and his wife Suzie came out one at a time. Tai Hyunh was clutching a letter from his daughter Mai, expressing her enthusiasm about coming back to town for summer vacation.

“We don’t have time to explain everything-” Stella started

“Just see for yourself.” Miles interrupted, in a more explicit rush. His eyes still trembled from the horror he witnessed outside. He clicked on the television.

Everyone stared in shock as they watched a helicopter shot hovering over Brooklyn where swarms of people, looking like little ants, were running amok. They could see red spots scattered all around the street and the sidewalk.

_"We’re getting feeds all across the east coast of panic and violence erupting in the streets. The outbreak had been spreading since early this morning, no comment is being made on the cause of this horrific scene but one thing is certain, these people who appear to be infected have become extremely aggressive and are very violent, attempting to harm or even kill anyone near them.”_

It then cut to a news anchor at his desk with hands squeezing the papers in his hands nervously.

 _"_ _It's a very disturbing scene indeed. At this time we are beginning our emergency broadcast system for Hill County. If you detect any violent activity outside, please remain indoors. Find supplies to barricade all entrances to your home and await further instruction. We will attempt to remain on the air as long as possible here at the station, to provide as many updates as we can. Please, stay safe everybody."_

"What is this madness?” asked Mr. Hyunh.

“Either Black Friday came early or those were people eating other people!” Grandpa Phil callously chimed in.

Stella snagged the remote away from Miles and quickly clicked the television off. Arnold continued to stare at the blank screen, the reflection of his horrified expression stared right back at him.

A thousand thoughts were juggling in his mind: “Where’s Helga? Is she okay? How can I get to her? What about my friends? Is this the end of Hillwood?”

"How bad is it?" asked Terry Gillam, one of the newer tenants.

“Just look outside.” Miles chewed coldly. Panic began to soar over the group like a cold wind.

“Miles, don’t.” Stella commanded, “Everyone, listen carefully. We don’t have a lot of time, we need you to work together to get as many of you in the cars we have here and get out of town.”

Just then, Miles’ phone pinged. Another anonymous contact. 

**THE HELICOPTERS WILL ARRIVE IN TWENTY MINUTES. YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE TO GET OUT. DON'T BLOW IT.**

Miles just stared at his phone.

“Alright change of plans people! Get to the roof. No time for personals, we need to go NOW!” Miles ordered, his inner army-man leaking into his voice.

Without missing a beat, everyone started to file up the stairs to Arnold’s room which housed the skylight access to the roof.

“Don’t rush, everything’s going to be fine, just stay up there and don’t make your whereabouts known!” Stella ordered as people scrambled onto the roof.

Oscar Kokashka, of course, was the first to go through the skylight. Suzie staggered to keep her own place in line.

As people started spilling out onto the roof, they couldn’t help but run over to the edge of the building and stand amazed at the scene before them.

Several cars had spun off and crashed into light posts. Blazoned gasoline scorched the street as people sprinted, jogged, ran and staggered like decapitated chickens.

Where there were screams, there was blood.

As Stella finished helping Suzie up through the skylight, Miles came into the bedroom and Arnold followed.

“Mom...what about everyone else?”

Miles grabbed Arnold by the shoulders, “Son, listen. We know your life here has always been sunshines and rainbows even before you got us back, but things are changing. We played with fire and now we have to reap what we sowed. You can curse us, damn us, do whatever the hell you want, but we can’t afford to grief about it now. The only thing that matters is staying alive and getting you to safety. Do. You. Understand?” He grizzled.

Seeing Miles’ army side seeping through, Stella uttered:

"But remember our promise. We're still keeping it. Know that even though we have to leave again, you're coming with us this time."

"this time you're coming with us…." The words echoed in Arnold's head as he nodded.

 _ **SLAM! WHAM! THUNKLETHUNKLE WHAM!**_ The front door shouted several bangs and fidgets of the doorknob throughout the house, too soft for everyone on the roof to hear.

"Let me get one thing." Arnold said. He dashed back down through the skylight and went to his desk, grabbing his journal. The banging at the front door came clearer to him and he couldn't help but follow the noise. Arnold quietly opened his bedroom door and glanced down the stairway towards the front door. He watched as it danced and shook like a blender on high setting.

“Dad! Someone! Get down here!”

Miles came staggering down the stairs, bringing Terry Gillam with him. They all marched and stumbled towards the door, then began to press against it with all their weight.

“We need more time." Miles uttered. Through the tidal waves of chaos and human slaughter on the other side of the door, he could hear the faint whipping of the wind. The helicopters were getting close.

"Terry, grab the couch in the living room. Arnold, get more stuff for the door." The two obeyed. Terry ran to the living room and gripped the couch tightly by one arm chair. Arnold sprinted into the kitchen and grabbed all the chairs, followed by the dinner table itself, dragging everything into one big pile next to Miles at the door.

Before long, the door was sealed by three hundred pounds of wood, furniture and heavy table top accessories. Some of it spread out to the windows in the living room.

Back on the roof, Stella had everyone grouped in one corner as she watched two large Chinooks draw closer to the rooftop.

“Alright that’s it, upstairs now!” Miles commanded. Terry was in the living room, checking the integrity of everything slammed up against the tall glass. Through a few small holes he could see bodies dashing left and right.

  
An explosion erupted, sounding only mere several feet away from the house.

Terry jolted for a second, but what came next didn’t grab his attention nearly quick enough.

A bloodied hand slammed itself against the glass, and with it came a decayed head. Teeth and claw marks all across the bystander’s right side of his face. Lips cracked and a faint green glow emitted from his eyes. It rubbed its hand up and down the glass a couple times and stared directly at Terry.

Before Terry could swallow or even blink, the zombie crashed through the window with its shoulders. The furniture and brittle wooden chairs weren’t enough as the infected human clawed its way into the house, displaying immense strength beyond a normal human’s capability. Terry could only step back a few paces, his mind trapped in fear.

“Terry get back!” Miles called, mere moments before the infected bystander lunged at Terry, throwing him against the wall and then to the floor, sinking its teeth into his right arm.

Miles helplessly grasped the zombie's shoulder and attempted to pull it off him. He turned to Arnold, "Arnold, the closet! My revolver’s in the corner, green case!" Arnold quickly dashed to the front closet, throwing clothes, rubbish and shoes out till he found a small metallic ammo box, a souvenir from his dad's days on the military post.

All those sleepovers playing video games with his friends paid off as Arnold cracked the revolver cylinder open and slid the cartridges into the holes.

Miles backed away as Arnold took amateur aim, blasting the infected human in the back. The infected man peeled itself off of Terry, taking a final bite of flesh with it.

The shot only seemed to make the monster more aggressive. It drooled and spewed blood all over the floor. Terry lay twitching on the ground, his body twisting and contorting like a video glitch.

Without question, Miles snatched the gun from Arnold’s hands.

With an impressive feat of aim, Miles took the infected down with one bullet between the man’s eyebrows and in seconds he was on the floor next to Terry’s twitching body.

“It’s too late.” Miles said to himself, loud enough for Arnold to hear him.

Arnold stared in horror as Miles walked up to Terry and put a bullet in Terry's forehead, ending his inhumane convulsions.

Arnold’s horror quickly changed to shock like changing a tv channel. Miles had killed someone he had lived with for three years, whom he worked with, had a beer with, had laughs with.

Miles grabbed Arnold by the shoulder and slapped him…

"Listen to me son!”

Arnold was dazed by his father’s sudden strike but then recomposed himself.

“I wish I could explain everything now, but I can’t because we’re all dead if we stay. If we can't get this under control soon, and more of these things start to emerge. We have to do what needs to be done or it all falls apart." Miles said, his voice as stern as it would be for a father talking to his son. Just then, a loud slam hit the front door. And with that, they were up the stairs.

On the roof, a single chopper had landed near the edge of the building.

Two people in black uniforms with submachine guns came dashing away from the helicopters' gushing winds. One ran up to Stella, his face blank and obscured by a pitch black gas mask. Behind him, Stella could see the chopper was empty except for one man in a lab coat.

“Dr. Shortman?” He asked her. The mask muffled his voice in a tin-canny type way. 

“Yes, Dr. Stella Shortman, ID number 7306, my husband is downstairs. We need to get these people out of here!”

“No can do ma’am, the order came from Dr. Richtofen himself, we’re to extract you and your husband only, no civilians!” The soldier replied.

Without missing a beat, Stella answered, “No, you listen to me grunt! My husband, Miles Shortman, is a colonel in the United States Military, and he is ordering you to get these people out of here!”

“Don’t argue with us madame! This is FTi jurisdiction, not military. We are under strict orders from FTi Delta to get you both there immediately!”

Stella just stood there in complete shock.

At the same time, Miles and Arnold returned to the roof. Miles spotted Stella talking to the soldier and ran over to him immediately. The other soldier ran behind him to secure the skylight window and slammed it shut, standing guard over it.

“They won’t take all of us Miles! Victor’s just getting us!” Stella said, turning to Miles.

Miles looked at his wife and then at the soldier in a mixture of immense rage and confusion. He approached the soldier with sternness and an eerie sense of composure.

“You listen to me soldier, you are getting these people off this roof, or I’m going straight to the general to report your insubordination. I am ordering you to get these people the fuck out of here!” Miles uttered with strong diction, enunciating every consonant.

The soldier just looked at him, dead-eyed and no expression due to the mask on his face.

“Yes sir…” He replied before turning around and signaling the chopper. Stella began escorting the residents behind him, towards the vehicle.

Arnold could only continue to think of Helga: Did she get out? Is her family okay? Was Miriam sober?

The sound of grinding metal snapped Arnold out of his worry. Another chopper had landed further down the street where Bob’s Beepers used to be. The engine hum grew to a high pitch and then dropped faster than a dubstep song as the vehicle was swarmed by a mixture of infected and innocent bystanders all with the abnormally common purpose of getting on the chopper.

Before Arnold could blink, the chopper had hit the street, its rotor shattered like glass as it spun into the street, sending shrapnel in all directions before finally going up in a ball of flame.

“We are out of time we need to go now!” One of the soldiers demanded as they herded the last of the boarding house residents onto the chopper.

There was only room for one more; Miles, Arnold, Eugene, Stinky, and Harold were the last remnants.

The soldier whom argued with Stella grabbed Miles by the arm.

"You are priority Colonel Shortman! We will protect your son until another helicopter arrives." Miles looked over at Arnold, next to his friends and the other soldier.

Miles looked the soldier dead in the eyes, "You fail that promise, and I will not rest until I see you in a chair with a needle in your arm."

"I promise sir." The solder replied as he filed Miles onto the chopper, "Won't take my eyes off him."

Just then, the skyline window busted open, catching the soldier standing guard next to it by surprise. He began to empty his weapon into the horde, killing several but one already began gnawing at his ankle, sending him to the ground in a bloody mess. Another ripped his mask off and began to squeeze his eyeballs into mush like gummy candies.

The soldier screamed as loud as he could, crying for help, gagging on his own blood as an infected police officer tore into his throat. His voice began to crush itself, his screams starting to sound like crumpled plastic.

In his thrashing, the soldier tossed his MP5 near Arnold's feet, still fully loaded with twenty-something rounds.

The horrific sight reflected itself in Arnold’s eyes as the chopper behind him began to fly away; both his parents struggling to jump out and “rescue” him as the two soldiers held them back. He could read Stella's lips that she was screaming his name.

Unbeknownst to anyone on board the helicopter, the man in the lab coat prepared a syringe and immediately injected it into Miles’ shoulder.

The remaining infected spilled out onto the roof and started to sprint towards Arnold and his remaining friends, as Arnold reached for the MP5-

Arnold woke up for good this time, the truck had stopped, Stinky struggled to get it started again but all it could do was choke and sputter.

"Truck's dead, outta gas." Stinky said. Everyone sat in their seats in silence, "Any ideas?" Stinky rasped.

Arnold looked out the window, "Hey, left side, look!" Everybody turned to gaze down a dark alley. On the other side they could see a dim lit street with one building in clear sight. They could make out the big red text on the front with a bumblebee mascot next to it.

Arnold could make out the text which read, "Bumborn Junior High – PS 220".

"What makes you think we'll stand a chance in there?" Harold asked.

"The lights are on." Arnold said.

"Barely." Eugene argued.

"Come on, maybe there's gas, or shelter, it could be sealed up pretty tight." Arnold said.

“Shit maybe there’s people in there, people we know.” Stinky exclaimed, slowly starting to take Arnold's side in this crazy survival plan of his.

Everyone sat in silence again and pondered.

"I already outran one horde and survived. Let's go for two." Harold said sarcastically, breaking the silence.

The group slowly hopped out of the truck, leaving their doors open to avoid noise. Eugene reached back into the truck to grab the food they still had. Stinky grasped his shotgun by the leather belt that it was wrapped in.

"No point in sneaking, if we run, we can make it there before we're even noticed." Arnold suggested.

"That's at least five hundred feet Arnold." Harold loudly whispered.

"Got any better ideas?" Arnold said. Considering the odds of their survival, Harold shut his mouth in agreement.

"Ready?" Arnold said. The heart beats of the group almost pounded together synchronously.

As they sat there in cowardice and hesitation, a pounding metal sound drew their attention off to the side. 

An infected lady in a red sports bra and yellow jogging shorts staggered from behind a trash can and turned its head, grunting as it caught site of the boys. It sneered and growled loudly, its head twitching from side to side like a drug junkie needing its fix.

**"Run!"**

Quickly, the boys dashed down the alley. They came out the other side and only slowed down slightly when they noticed the street they had just run onto had a bit more "traffic". At least twenty infected pedestrians were there and they all caught site of the group.

"Keep going!" Arnold cried, pointing at the dimly lit school sign, like it was a literal beacon of hope.

They quickly ran up the stairs to the front doors of the school.

The doors wouldn’t open...

Arnold began pounding and everybody else joined in. Harold pressed against the door, putting all his strength into it.

The infected began to sprint closer and closer. Arnold continued to pound. He caught a whiff of a foul smell, something familiar, almost like something from his dreams...smelt like bleach and toothpaste.

Just then, the doors burst open. A masked figure came out.

Without noticing the figure had a bucket in his hands, Arnold and the group found themselves suddenly covered in a strongly offensive stench.

Their eyes were blinded by the foul-colored green slop that drenched them all.

Behind them, the stomping feet of the infected ceased.

All they could deduce was that the immensely disgusting odor covered up their scent; something the infected could not hunt without.

The slop seeped its way into Arnold’s ears and he could barely hear the masked figure give them orders.

"Walk in slowly; don't make any sudden movements, _smooooth_ like a cat burglar."

His voice sounded extremely familiar to Arnold, like that of a close friend.

The group entered and the masked figure shut the door behind them. He turned back around as Arnold and his group wiped the insultingly gross liquid from their eyes and ears.

"Well, let's see what we got here. We got one, two, three, four chumps, looking like swamp monsters, still hanging around Hillwood with flesh eating monsters out to eat every single person still breathing in these parts, and no objective way to beat them.” The figure chided in a playful tone.

He dropped the bucket and grabbed his mask, slowly peeling it off to reveal a dark skin colored face and black curly hair which sprung straight up, free of its binding from the mask straps.

Arnold and his group glared in excited shock at Gerald's face,

"Bet you boys missed this handsome devil now didn't ya." Gerald said with a smile. "Welcome to PS 220."

.

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To Be Continued


End file.
